


A Tango in Orange

by Krimsonkitsu



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Gen, Science Bros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1741811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krimsonkitsu/pseuds/Krimsonkitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark thought he could read anyone, so how did his newest partner throw him for such a loop? Clearly he didn't know the steps as well as he thought….</p><p>Nothing too fancy, just a brief drabble between our two favorite scientists, light slash, can be read as friendship or just a good old fashioned bromance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sacada

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LosttotheHoping](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LosttotheHoping/gifts).



Author's note: This started as a prompt from a good friend; Lost to the Hoping. But Tony and Bruce took over and who am I to object to all this cuteness? No overt slash-just Science Bros at their best. I hope you all enjoy. Please read and review.

~~~xXx~~~

Sacada:

Tony always liked music. He was a being of energy, of movement and action, it seemed only natural that shied away from quiet, from stillness. He leaned towards loud, percussive, sounds that echoed at least three floors above and below his labs. The complaints of his teammates always seemed to fall on deaf ears ("You can't hear yourself think? Good, your thinking is distracting.") In the end, Natasha would retreat to the library to work on her missions, Clint usually made the roof his base of operations, and Steve often fled the tower all together. Pepper Potts, long accustomed to her boss's quirks, merely continued her daily job duties armed with a sturdy pair of earplugs and a scowl.

Only Dr. Banner stayed, hunched over his tables and simulations and papers, seemingly oblivious to the pounding rhythm that nearly shook the entire lab. If he didn't complain, he certainly didn't seem to revel in the musical stylings of AC/DC or Lynyrd Skynyrd either. But that was fine, so long as Tony could continue his work unmolested, he didn't particularly care.

The months seemed to slip by, almost unnoticed by the residents of the Tower. There were missions of course, a terrorist plot discovered in Wyoming (though half of the time was spent convincing Stark that cowboy boots would not count as "going undercover"), sabotage to a nuclear plant in California (the Hulk had a field day on that one), and countless other missions that seemed to blend together until they were just another mundane distraction from Tony's work.

The others found other ways to fill their leftover time. Natasha began collecting intelligence on a shady collection of former USSR officers, Clint usually tagged along, or else ran miscellaneous missions for SHIELD, Steve joined a gym. They flitted through, more or less unacknowledged by the genius until he finally resurfaced from his experiments—an event that might not occur for days. It wasn't that he disliked them; Steve was a hell of a basketball player, Clint shared his love of B-rated horror movies, and he was still trying to beat Nat in Call of Duty—but they were temporary companions at best. Tony had learned long ago that friendship was fleeting, that no matter what, everyone leaves.

And yet, some how, he never expected Bruce to. He'd invited the scientist to stay after dust settled in New York, batted away every feeble excuse as to why he might not exactly be welcome, built him his own work station without asking (complete with a Banner-specific panic room near by.) It honestly never occurred to him that the scientist would actually decline him, and Tony Stark was very good at reading people. Banner stayed.

He never used his own lab though, choosing instead to set up a cramped makeshift little lab bench in the corner of Tony's own lab. And at first it bothered Tony—he never liked having people in his lab "looking over his shoulder and wasting time with useless questions." Not to mention the dangers of testing potential new weapons while another person stood nearby, just begging for a piece of shrapnel to the chest. And besides, Bruce's eschewing of his shiny new lab was a personal affront to the billionaire. Bruce practiced in a damned hut before this and yet a state-of-the-art lab was somehow not up to his exacting standards? But after weeks of pointed questions, of possible upgrades and adjustments, Tony just gave up and resigned himself to having a new lab partner.

Which turned out to be surprisingly not awful. Bruce was quiet for the most part, his experiments far less likely to explode than Tony's and he patiently tolerated the rants that followed said explosions. And Tony, who'd never truly had a peer, learned just how nice it was to have a second set of eyes. ("You forgot to integrate the third equation—I think that would help with the lag you've been struggling with.") As the months slid by, Bruce's presence had become less of a distraction and more of a comforting constant, and it was easy to believe that it would never change.

So when it did, Tony Stark was completely unprepared.

It started with a clatter, loud enough to overcome the music, loud enough to pull Tony's attention from his newest suit. He looked over to see Banner, mild mannered Dr. Banner, leaning against his desk, his shoulders heaving as broken electronics sparked around his feet.

With a wave of his hand, Tony silenced the music and took a hesitant step forward. "B? Everything okay?"

"Fine." The scientist's voice was rougher than Tony was used to, but there was no undercurrent of "the other guy"—he was in control then. Tony took another step, careful to avoid the scattered debris of technology.

"Come on, Doctor. Let's go get a burger. We could both use a break," his voice was softer, gentler than few had thought him capable of.

Bruce let out a breath, and his shoulders seemed to curl inwards for a moment as though he was collapsing in on himself. Finally, he straightened and by the time he turned around, there was little hint of his outburst.

"I'm fine," he said with a wry smile. "Just a lack of sleep and an elusive answer to my ongoing problem, nothing to worry about."

Tony was about to retort that nearly 15 million dollars of his wrecked equipment was a tiny bit more than nothing, but something in Banner's eyes stopped him. "Okay, fine, nothing at all," Tony replied with a smile of his own. "Why don't I take a look at what you have so far? I'm sure between the two of us—"

Bruce's smile widened, but he only stepped back, hands up in a clear sign of retreat. "Not now, Tony. I just need some time to regroup," he looked at the mess and dropped to his knees. "I'll just clean up and—"

Tony dropped a gloved hand to the other man's shoulder. "Don't worry about the mess," he said, sympathetically.

Bruce smiled awkwardly in thanks and swept to his feet. "Thank you, Tony."

Tony watched him flee and sighed, gesturing for Dummy to begin the clean-up. With nothing else to do, he returned to work, and the music returned with a careless gesture. The screams of guitar, the rhythmic pound of drums filled the silence, rushed into the void left by Dr. Banner.

And yet, somehow, the lab seemed quieter than before.

Tony hated it.

~~~xXX~~~

Afternote: If you're a fan of fun facts, "Sacada" in Tango means displacement-more specifically the leg of one partner displaces the non-weight bearing leg of the other. Seemed fitting-but who is displacing whom, I wonder?


	2. Atrapada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony has had enough and Thor proves he has a sweet tooth…

Atrapada:

Tony Stark was furious.

A week of Banner's absence was fine—Tony knew from experience that sometimes you had to take a break, to regroup when you've hit the proverbial wall. And if it was harder to concentrate on his own projects, if he caught himself turning to bounce an idea off of the doctor, Tony did his best not to think about it. Banner was still showing up for dinner, eating and chatting with the others (though he seemed to be content with fading into the background—an act which was helped with Thor's return.) Often he'd join Steve and Tony for their evening activities, proving to be one hell of an opponent at Texas Hold-em, a surprisingly avid fan of baseball, and an equally surprising flop at board games. ("I've never had luck on my side," was the offhanded excuse after his 10th consecutive loss at Sorry!.)

On Saturday, he was somehow talked into movies with Natasha and Clint, who'd just returned from some nonsense in Liberia. They sprawled on the plush couches, laughing at Charlie Chaplin with bags of popcorn and an alarming variety of beverages scattered between them. And when Tony passed by, noting how all three had passed out long before the credits rolled, he was certain Bruce would be back in the lab before the week was out.

But he wasn't.

The second week was worse. Bruce's workstation remained deserted, dust clinging to the abandoned parts like moss to a gravestone. Tony tried not to look back at it, to bury himself in the old familiar songs, in the routine that had dominated his life long before the physicist had stumbled in. Pepper was a frequent guest, usually accompanied with a lecture about being more responsible to the business and his shareholders. Or something like that; it never failed to amaze Tony that he still only knew the basic gist of the "Pepper rants" even after all these years. Steve popped in occasionally, usually with some new gadget or program that had completely outfoxed him (Tony begged him to stay away from Apple products after the last fiasco), and subsequently got roped into doing some heavy lifting in return. Even Natasha sauntered in on a Friday afternoon, clearly jetlagged from her trip to Belarus, with some new data file relating to the dubiously named company, Gynacon.

But despite all the intrusions, all the activity, there was one thing missing, one absence that was distractingly, glaringly apparent. And Tony Stark had had enough.

"Banner still hasn't emerged from his room today," Thor cautioned, appearing out of nowhere with a bowl of jellybeans and a mug of coffee. Tony, who hadn't even really decided what he was doing just yet, gave the Asgardian an unimpressed look. This was far from the first time Tony had wondered whether Asgardians had some form of telepathy, but if he did, Thor hid it well.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Goldilocks," Tony replied, purposely veering away from the doctor's hallway with less than charitable thoughts in his head. "I was just going to find something to snack on."

"I see," Thor said lightly, with one of the most smug smiles Tony had ever seen on the demigod (he'd clearly been spending too much time with his dick brother.) Tony waited for the equally smug comment that was sure to follow, but Thor chose instead to stuff what Tony considered an entirely inappropriate level of jellybeans into his smug mouth.

"Alright, big guy, out with it," Tony snapped, waltzing into the kitchen. "What are you cheesing about?"

"You have gone to acquire food three times today."

Tony seriously regretted not setting Loki on fire when he had the chance. "You've been counting?"

Thor's smile widened and his eyes seemed to dance in response to the irritation in Tony's voice. "Steve told me that you never leave your lab for sustenance. He claims you have your own store of nourishment inside."

"I had time to kill," Tony replied, determined to keep the defensive tone out of his voice.

"Indeed," Thor agreed, shifting the bowl of jellybeans into his other arm, all in order to give Tony's shoulder a lusty pat. "Which is why you chose this kitchen, rather than the one located one floor up from your place of work."

And for once, Tony had no retort, no reasonable explanation for why he'd decided to go thirty floors for a sno ball. He threw up his hands in defeat. "What can I say? I would have gotten away with it, if it weren't for you meddling kids…" At Thor's blank look, Tony lowered his hands, sighing at the waste of a perfectly timed quote.

"You are worried about Banner?" Thor asked as they entered the, thankfully empty, kitchen. "Why? He seems to be most at ease here."

"I am not worried about him," Tony groused, rooting around the fridge for a Coke. "But if he's not going to come back to finish his research, I'd really like my lab bench back." He let the door shut and leaned against it, cracking open the can and waiting for the hiss to die down, the chill of the can seeping into his callused fingers.

"He has not returned to his studies?" Thor sat down his bowl, looking surprised. "That is odd… He hasn't seemed particularly unwell."

"I really don't care what he chooses to do, but it's rude to just leave your shit laying around another guy's lab. Especially when you were squatting in the first place." Tony shot-gunned the rest of his Coke and tossed it into a recycling bin.

Thor paused, a strange look in his eyes as he gazed at Tony soberly. "Yes, then you should speak with him in earnest," he agreed, collecting his bowl. "Best of luck, Friend Tony," he said, finally. And before Tony could ask just what he was supposed to need luck for, Thor was off.

"False man! Where is Lady Natasha? We have much to discuss in the way of this 'automatic coffee maker’!"

Tony grimaced, feeling a pang of sympathy for the Widow, before taking a deep breath.

It was time he got some answers.

~~~xXx~~~

After note: Today's lesson for today! Atrapada literally means trapped, and occurs when the leader catches a part of his partners body, such as a leg or a foot.

Why Thor, you may ask? I honestly can't tell you where this came from… he popped into my head like a damned ninja and refused to leave until he got his screen time… and they say Loki's the prima donna…. Also, I have absolutely no basis in canon for the Jellybeans, it just seems like just the sort of human novelty item Thor would enjoy.

Comments, critiques and suggestions are always welcome :)

PS: special thanks to Lost to the Hoping for acting as my beta, because apparently I am blind to typos…we all thank you...


	3. Cabeceo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both partners give a little... but will it be enough?

Chapter 3: Cabeceo

Tony had always promised privacy. It was the first concern when he suggested renovating his New York project into a headquarters. (The other concern: “Somehow, basing our operations in a giant tower with our name plastered on the front of it seems like we’re just asking for trouble...” was a whole other debate.) With two spies, a scientist on the run from the government, an Asgardian prince, and a WW2 experimental soldier who’d been fished out of the Arctic, there were bound to be secrets that didn’t need to see the light of day. Tony understood the desire for privacy and promised that they never had to worry about him encroaching. (“What do I look like? The NSA?”) Natasha and Steve had been vocally suspicious at first, and Tony really couldn’t blame them—they’d seen him breaking into the most advanced cyber network in the free world in the span of an hour. However, the months passed and Tony had kept his word, much to the surprise of just about everyone. Tony had taken great pride in proving his teammates wrong in the matter of his discretion.

So when he found himself, standing outside of Banner’s door, which stubbornly refused to budge, he couldn’t help but wish he hadn’t been so annoyingly smug about protecting his teammates privacy.

“JARVIS—“

“Sir, as per your own orders, I am not allowed to give you any details about Dr. Banner—aside from assuring you that he does not require any assistance,” interjected the wry tones. The AI knew full well what his master was after. Tony knew the AI was only following the protocol that he himself had set, but he was pretty sure he hadn’t imagined the slightly smug tone. “I can alert him to your presence, if you’d like.” As if 15 minutes of knocking wouldn’t have done that for him.

“Do that,” Tony said, wracking his brains for a loop hole—there’s always a loophole. (But trying to outfox your own best work isn’t easy--especially when you are Tony Stark.) Finding nothing, he kicked at the door in irritation. “Fine, but I’m replacing your equipment,” he said, feeling rather petulant. “Hope you like microscopes from Toys-r-us.”

There was a pause and Tony was sure that if Bruce was ever going to answer his door, he certainly wouldn’t now. The man had a surprising stubborn streak to him. With a sigh, Tony turned around, his mind turning towards finding new and entertaining methods for tormenting Cap as a diversion (no way in hell was he going to focus of the new booster stabilizers now.)

He was about 10 feet away when the door was opened and the faint sound of music reached his ears. Tony turned around, and paused, hearing the rhythmic staccato of piano and the sliding shrill measures of the strings. For a brief moment, Tony considered walking away, but then… the door was open and when had Tony Stark ever been able to resist temptation?

The room was dark, but Tony could tell how spartan it was. He’d been in everyone’s room for some reason or another, and everyone had given them a bit of a personal touch. Thor brought doodads from Asgard that Natasha refused to touch after one shocked Tony through the door for “encroaching”, according to the demigod. (Thor’s room also seemed to accumulate quite a bit of clutter as cleaning had never been much of an activity in his life.) Natasha seemed to have an affinity for landscapes and her walls were filled with photographs of everything from the Gobi desert to a cityscape of Hong Kong. Everything was very ordered and organized--even her books were organized in alphabetical order-- by language first, then author, then title. Steve and Barton both decided Stark’s taste was unsatisfactory and instead opted to bring in their own stuff. But Bruce… there was nothing outside of what Tony had brought in. It was a stark reminder of how Bruce had lived for years before he lived in the Tower. How he still lived--as though he would never be in any one place long enough to acquire anything that belonged to him. (The thought hurt Tony more that he’d ever admit.)

He could see a flickering light coming from the bedroom, the music growing louder and louder. Tony, perhaps for the first time in his life, hesitated, feeling like an intruder. Bruce had never invited others into his life, he tolerated them, was kind to them, but he never revealed more than he had to. Each sentence felt carefully constructed, like he had weighed the options and had only shared what was strictly required.

“You don’t have to hide behind the door,” came Bruce’s voice, barely louder than the music. Tony couldn’t place the tone the doctor used, but it was clear that he certainly wasn’t unexpected. He stepped in, momentarily dazed by the light, after so much darkness.

Bruce was seated by his desk, fully dressed, posture relaxed. The room was bathed in the light cast off by two holographic dancers, gliding along the floor in time with the music. Tony couldn’t help but be memorized. He was no expert in Tango, and even to his untrained eye, he could tell they weren’t pros. But the way they moved… they seemed to know eachother better than they knew themselves. The way Bruce watched it, you would think it was nothing more than a particularly interesting lecture on particle physics.

“What is that?” Tony asked softly, finally looking back to the scientist.

Bruce got to his feet, his eyes never leaving the figures. “An experiment of sorts…” he replied softly. “I was trying to encode a memory electronically--it worked… a bit--” he shrugged. “There was a couple when I had hidden out in Argentina, in a small little village about 3 hours outside of Buenos Aires… Every Saturday, one of the men would play tango music from a radio that he placed on a window sill. Everyone from town would come out, but there was just this one couple… they left such an impression on me. They moved as one being, as if the music was their life blood. Everyone cleared the way to let them dance--everyone was so enchanted… But anyway, I couldn’t record the rest of it-- I only managed to record them dancing through this one song…”

Tony paused, distracted by how impressive it was that he’d managed even that. “So this is what you’ve been working on all this time?” He tried to be nonchalant but he was certain Bruce could hear the hope in his voice. Pathetic.

“No.”

“No?” That threw Tony. “Wait, so you weren’t hiding here to get away from distractions in order to focus on your memory?”

“No.”

They fell into a brief silence, allowing the music to bridge the gap. Finally, Tony opened his mouth to demand real answers. But before he could, Bruce interrupted.

“Do you know how to tango?” he asked, gesturing to the figures. “Somehow I’d think you’d be good at it.”

Tony blinked, that was not a question he had been prepared for. “Never had the opportunity,” he finally settled on.

“Well,” Bruce gestured to the figures, “here’s your chance to learn.”

“And why in the hell would I want to do that?” Tony asked, smirking back at the scientist. “Planning on taking me dancing, Banner?”

Bruce flushed slightly, but still maintained his composure; he’d spent far too long with Stark not to respond with equal amounts of snark. “Only if you dance well,” he replied, with a smirk of his own.

A challenge had been issued, and Tony Stark never believed in backing away from a challenge. He bowed to Bruce with a flourish. “Then I am at your mercy, oh teacher,” he said with a grin.

Bruce got to his feet, eying Tony as though waiting for the punchline. “Very well.” He stood before the other man, surveying him thoughtfully. He sighed and took a step closer, his hand touching Tony’s arm. “We’ll have to get closer,” he murmured softly. “We’ll start with an open embrace,” he instructed. He took Tony’s hand in his and placed it on his upper arm before letting go.

Tony listened to the physicist describe the movements, the 4 steps pattern, cross-system walks and breaks. It was easy to get lost in the soft words, in the warmth in his tone as he explained; it was the first time Tony had heard the scientist sound truly relaxed. He could imagine the man before the accident, could imagine the warm curiosity and the eager zeal for new discoveries that must have driven him back then.

“I’ll start off slow, alright?” Bruce said, his hand resting lightly on Tony’s back. “Just follow me, okay?”

Tony nodded, almost mesmerized by this new side of Bruce Banner. They danced in relative silence, with Bruce marking the rhythm. Tony picked it up like he picked up everything and soon Bruce was nodding his approval. They continued to follow the rhythm he had set, though no words were spoken. And then Bruce spoke.

“I was afraid,” he admitted, his voice so soft that Tony almost missed it. His fingers seemed to clutch tighter around the billionaire’s sleeve. “Working beside you… it almost felt like before. Before the running, before Admiral Ross... before everything. It felt so normal and I could almost forget that anything had changed—“

“You don’t have to be afraid, you know,” Tony said, dryly. “That’s the point of you being here; so you don’t have to hide. Ever again, remember?”

Bruce nodded and backed away with a weak smile. “I do remember,” he agreed simply, directing his attention back to the couple frozen in time, projected in the darkness. “But I wasn’t afraid of others. I was afraid of you.”

“Me? Who’s afraid of me?” Tony asked, honestly surprised. He’d been told he was arrogant, annoying, pompous, and soulless… but never an object of fear.

“I am.” Bruce let out a sigh, sinking into his chair, looking so much older in the shadows of the holograms.

Tony gritted his teeth irritably, striding over to the chair and leaning over, caging Bruce in. “I thought we’d covered this,” he said firmly. “I am your friend, Banner. I will do everything in my power to prevent anyone from using you, ever again.”

“I know.”

“Then why? Why the hell run from me?” Tony challenged, leaning further, determined to draw out the truth from the man before him.

“Because you make me feel normal,” Bruce repeated, his eyes meeting Tony’s wearily. “Don’t you understand? Normal is dangerous. Normal makes you forget, and when you forget… you let your control slip.”

“You mean in the lab?” Tony asked. “You were still in control remember? No green men, just a normal run of the mill outburst.”

“But it could have just as easily fallen the other way,” Bruce replied, his tone patient. “I acted without thinking, I let emotions overwhelm my reasoning. It is a miracle that I caught myself before the other guy could make an appearance. And I realize how selfish I’d been, invading your lab, seeking your company… I put you in danger, Tony.”

Tony groaned. “No, I did,” he corrected Banner. “I put myself in danger the instant I let you set up shop on my workbench. And you know what? I’d do it all over again. Because you weren’t the only one who enjoyed feeling normal for a change.” He finally released his grip on the chair and straightened. “Having a peer, someone to talk to, to work with... you think you aren’t the only one who liked not feeling so damned lonely for a change?” He gestured to Bruce with a huff. “I’m not scared of the Hulk, and I’m not scared of you. You’re my friend, you idiot! I’m never going to be afraid of you or the other guy. Maybe you should take notes!”

Bruce didn’t respond, and Tony didn’t really expect him to. They simply remained still, each sizing up the other in silence. Finally, Tony just sighed and shook his head, turning to leave. There was nothing left to say, and Tony Stark didn’t like to linger where he wasn’t needed. 

“Thanks for the dance lesson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Cabeceo is a ritual that traditionally begins each dance where the dancers stand apart and nod to acknowledge the other. It seemed fitting here as Tony and Bruce both get a chance to see each other in a new light. I hope you liked this installment and please keep your eyes open for the final chapter sometime this weekend. As always, comments, critiques, and suggestions are always welcome! Thanks for reading.


End file.
